The Straight Story: What can this most un-Lynchian Lynch film tell us about him?

Rewatching David Lynch’s films after his passing is perhaps the best way for fans to pay tribute to him. However, choosing which film to revisit can be quite a dilemma. Mulholland Drive, Lost Highway, and Blue Velvet might feel too familiar; Eraserhead and Inland Empire might be too heavy. Rewatching Twin Peaks is a great option, but considering each season runs for hours—sometimes even dozens of hours—it requires a lot of mental preparation.

After weighing my options, I feel that revisiting his road films, Wild at Heart or The Straight Story, might be a more joyful and adventurous choice, with the latter being the better fit. As a multidisciplinary artist, Lynch never slowed down his creative pace, but after Inland Empire in 2006, his output of narrative films significantly declined. In the later years of his career, he never directed another feature film, and Twin Peaks: The Return was nearly his only narrative work. This slightly distanced him from his fans over the past decade.

Thus, despite being considered the least “Lynchian” of his works, The Straight Story felt like reconnecting with an old friend after years of no contact. Of course, this is my subjective illusion—when Lynch made this film, he was only 52 years old. Just a year before, he had released Lost Highway, and a year later, he would begin filming Mulholland Drive. He was nowhere near old age, either physically or mentally.

But we all know that trying to understand anything related to Lynch through a linear, time-bound logic is futile because he simply doesn’t operate that way. Sure enough, just ten minutes into The Straight Story, a doctor diagnoses the protagonist, Alvin Straight:


“I see you have a history of smoking. I’d say you’re in the early stages of emphysema.”

And we all know that Lynch ultimately passed away from emphysema—an inevitable consequence of a lifetime of heavy smoking. Lynch finally quit smoking in 2022 at the age of 76, but it was too late. The character Alvin in the film cares even less about his lifespan than Lynch did—right after his doctor warns him about his health, he returns home and immediately lights a cigarette. It’s a moment of classic Lynchian humor but also a testament to the protagonist’s pride and stubbornness—traits that, in some ways, Lynch himself also embodied.

Audiences in 1999 likely knew before entering the theater that The Straight Story was Lynch’s only G-rated film (suitable for all audiences) and his only film produced by Disney. Yet, the first ten minutes still carry an unsettling undertone, as if the viewer could slip into the world of Blue Velvet or Lost Highway at any moment. The film opens with a long, descending shot of a sunlit lawn, while inside a house, Alvin falls to the floor—a moment that teasingly recalls the opening of Blue Velvet. And Lynch’s sound design is as unnerving as ever: in his films, the sound of a person falling is a thousand times louder than in real life—it’s almost as if the earth itself is cracking.

Alvin’s fall is eerily reminiscent of Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks

The subsequent scenes unfold with Lynch’s signature eccentricity. Three characters enter Alvin’s living room one by one, each reacting differently to his fall. His old drinking buddy complains about their missed meeting at the bar ("You could’ve at least called!"); a neighbor panics and insists on calling for an ambulance; and Alvin’s daughter, Rose, walks in last, takes one look, and, after a long pause, blurts out, "How did you two manage to do this to my dad?"

After a check-up, peace is temporarily restored. But then, in Alvin’s home state of Iowa, a storm breaks out. In Lynch’s films, thunder never sounds like anything you’ve ever heard before—it’s as if you’re hearing real thunder for the first time. Under the storm’s dramatic lighting, Alvin’s small wooden house momentarily transforms into the Lost Highway Hotel from Lost Highway. Then, Rose answers a phone call and delivers the news:

"Uncle Lyle had a stroke."

This moment changes everything. It’s bad news, but it sweeps away the film’s overarching gloom. Alvin and Lyle, once inseparable brothers, haven’t spoken in ten years. The film doesn’t specify why—likely a mix of pride, rivalry, and resentment common among men. Until this moment, Alvin had been fixated on his own mortality. But upon hearing about Lyle, he suddenly comes alive. He must go see his brother. This mission gives him purpose and determination. His eyes regain their light, his steps become firm.

Alvin embarks on his journey in a truly unusual way: riding a lawnmower, towing a small trailer packed with essentials. The film rationalizes this: Alvin’s eyesight is too poor to drive a car, he dislikes buses, and his daughter can’t take him. This is his only option.

But in reality, this choice is also driven by Alvin’s belief. The reason for their decade-long silence is complex, but as the older brother, Alvin should have taken care of Lyle rather than stewing in resentment. Traveling nearly 400 kilometers at eight kilometers per hour on a lawnmower is Alvin’s way of apologizing to his brother—a conviction he cannot explain to others. This journey reminds me of Werner Herzog’s trek to visit his ailing friend, Lotte Eisner: Herzog stubbornly believed that if he walked from Munich to Paris, Eisner would survive. I’ve always thought Lynch and Herzog share a deep similarity. They even collaborated at times, and their themes and motifs frequently overlap—making them an ideal subject for comparative studies.

Back to the road. As Alvin’s journey unfolds, the film finds its rhythm. Angelo Badalamenti’s score, initially tinged with Twin Peaks-like eeriness, transitions into warm, pastoral melodies, complementing the picturesque countryside.

Throughout his travels, Alvin imparts life wisdom to younger travelers. These segments, admittedly, feel somewhat didactic. However, Lynch’s focus isn’t just on Alvin’s lessons but also on the fleeting nature of human encounters—each person Alvin meets is like a surreal character dropped from the cosmos, akin to the wanderers in Wild at Heart. The runaway girl recalls Sherilyn Fenn’s character in Wild at Heart; the twin mechanics fixing his mower bring to mind the casino brothers in Twin Peaks: The Return; even Danny, the kind townsperson who offers Alvin a ride, feels slightly unreal in the idyllic small-town setting—not to mention his resemblance to Leland Palmer from Twin Peaks.

Lynch once joked that The Straight Story was his most surreal film. It was a joke, but not entirely.

Eventually, Alvin arrives at Lyle’s house. His lawnmower breaks down at the last moment, but a passing farmer advises him to try restarting it—it miraculously works, like a divine intervention. It’s a classic Lynchian miracle: deus ex machina, yet entirely moving.

Alvin steps off his mower and calls for his brother. Lyle, using a walker, emerges. They sit in silence at the porch. The film’s emotional weight rests almost entirely on Alvin’s character and Richard Farnsworth’s performance. If Lyle’s reaction isn’t convincing, the whole film collapses.

But Harry Dean Stanton delivers a devastatingly moving performance in just a few seconds.

At first, he maintains composure, nodding in silent gratitude—acknowledging Alvin’s long journey. But when he glances at the lawnmower, his eyes well up. His voice remains steady as he asks:

You rode that thing all the way here?

Like a guilty child caught misbehaving, Alvin sheepishly replies:

"That’s right, Lyle."

Lyle’s composure finally shatters. He gasps slightly, tears forming. He shares a knowing look with Alvin before gazing at the starry sky they once admired as kids. Alvin follows suit. The night sky takes over the screen. Badalamenti’s ethereal score swells. The story ends.

What a direct, unpretentious film—just like David Lynch himself.

And as we rewatch it, Lynch now resides somewhere in that very sky. But silence never lasts forever. We will encounter our own Lynchian moments, and when we do, we needn’t question them—they are his signals from a distant star.

Most popular
Newest
comments

Share your thoughts!

Be the first to start the conversation.

6
comment
4
favorite
0
share
report